When Clare was born I said I was the luckiest person in the world. I was lucky in that I was fortunate enough to become a mom, and not everyone has that opportunity. I just felt like I was given this amazing gift and I needed everyone to know how grateful I was for her. I was the luckiest person in the world because I was Clare's mom.
Now the road isn't so smooth. I spend my days worrying about Clare. I worry that her legs will feel wobbly. I worry that she won't be able to run and jump like the other kids at school. I worry that she will lose her balance and fall on the playground. I worry that she will choke on her milk. I spend the nights worrying about all of those same things, but I also try to fit in a little crying and praying and sleeping. And some Kardashian's.
I hate everything about her diagnosis. I hate the treatment. I hate the way it makes her feel. I hate the way it makes me feel. I apply numbing cream, climb into hospital beds, and hold her tight when she cries about getting her button put in or taking her medicine. I brush the hair she has left, apply a bow the size of a giant burrito, and hope for the best each day.
But I still feel like I am the luckiest lady. I am happy that I am the one who gets to put on latex gloves and mix her chemotherapy each morning. I am grateful that I can negotiate with her for at least 15 minutes each morning about why she should take her medicine. I am glad that I am the one who gets to stick a spoon full of chemo/applesauce into her mouth everyday. I am grateful that I get to apply preventative mouthwash to her cheeks three times a day. I am thrilled that I am the one who gets to console her when she is sad. Or hold her as she gets her "silly medicine" or gets her button put in. I am happy that I am the one she looks for when she doesn't feel good and needs comfort.
Those terrible jobs are mine and I would never give them up.